


Chemistry

by blackmustache



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmustache/pseuds/blackmustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Glee Tour has arrived in England, and Darren has plans for the evening to help them get over the jet-lag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry

Author: [](http://blackmustache.livejournal.com/profile)[**blackmustache**](http://blackmustache.livejournal.com/)  
Title: Chemistry  
Pairing: Chris/Darren  
Rating: PG-13 (mostly for language)  
Disclaimer: This is RPF. I am in no way implying that the following ever took place. It is a work of fiction.  
Summary: The Glee Tour has arrived in England, and Darren has plans for the evening to help them get over the jet-lag.  
Word Count: 3651

Darren had a cousin who worked as cabin crew on long haul flights, and she had always told him the best way to get rid of jet lag when flying from the US to Europe was to nap upon arrival. This was the reason he now found himself bleary eyed on their first afternoon in Manchester, lying to the front desk about which room he was staying in, pretending to be locked out so that he could get a key and go in to wake Chris up.

His own nap had lasted exactly ninety minutes, from the second his head touched the pillow until the minute his alarm went off. Not sleeping for longer than that was very important, and had always worked for him in the past. Chris hadn't been so sure it would work and insisted he was just going to stay awake right through until bedtime – so when Darren tried calling his room three times with no answer, he took matters into his own hands.

Slipping the key card into the lock, he knocked gently and called out for his friend. When there was still no answer, the pushed the door all the way open and smirked at the sight in front of him.

Chris was completely zonked out, face smushed into the sofa and looking as if he might fall off at any second. As Darren reached for the television remote, which was blaring out some music channel at a ridiculous volume for anybody to be able to sleep through, he poked Chris in the shoulder.

“Hey, Colfer.”

Chris didn't react. Darren sighed.

“Well, you asked for it.”

Switching the TV off and tossing the remote onto the bed, Darren sat on the back Chris's legs. When Chris still showed no signs of waking, Darren did the most annoying thing he could think of and leant over, repeatedly flicking his thumb and middle finger at the top of Chris's ear.

Chris immediately jerked up – or tried to, except Darren was still sitting on his legs. “What the fuck?!” He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and twisted – as best he could – to look at Darren. “Seriously, man. What the fuck?”

Darren shrugged, smiling sweetly. “You said you weren't going to sleep. You slept. I fixed it.”

Chris glared at Darren, the severity of which was somewhat ruined by a yawn.

“You'll thank me later.”

Chris just raised an eyebrow.

“You know if I hadn't woken you up you would have just bitched at me all night for not waking you up.”

Chris got around the fact that Darren was blatantly right by changing the subject. “What time is it?”

“Almost six. Wanna grab something to eat?”

Chris's brain wasn't yet awake enough to speak in sentences longer than four words. “Where's everybody else?”

“Out. Shopping. Eating. Doing... stuff. I predict they'll all be too tired to even stand up by around seven, since none of them would listen to me when I tried to tell them they should take a nap and then stay up as late as they can manage...”

Chris groaned. “Enough already about the nap thing!”

Darren pouted. “Fine.” He paused. “So... food?”

–

After arguing for almost half an hour about where they should go to eat, Darren finally relented and agreed to ordering room service.

“But we're going out later,” he'd whined. “For a drink. I already found a place.”

Which is how the two of them ended up in a tiny pub on the outskirts of Manchester, where the only other customers were an old man sitting at the bar nursing a pint of beer and reading a newspaper, and a group of students playing pool. Chris and Darren took a small booth at the other side of the pub, and the member of the tour's security team who'd driven them out here took a seat well away from them with a good view of the TV.

“When you said you 'found a place',” Chris mused, as they settled themselves at the table they'd chosen. The booth was closed on three sides, selected specifically to minimize their chances of being noticed. “How exactly did you find this place?!”

Darren shrugged. “I just asked around. It's not like we could just go to a club – it's barely nine. How lame would that be?!” Chris laughed, and Darren smiled as he stood back up, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet and hoping he'd remembered to put pounds in there instead of dollars. “So, I'm buying.”

He returned a minute later with a rum and Diet Coke for Chris, and a pint of Guinness for himself. Chris eyed the dark drink suspiciously as Darren took a sip.

“That looks disgusting.”

Darren grinned at Chris, a foam moustache on his top lip. Chris rolled his eyes as Darren pushed the glass in his direction. “It's delicious. Try some.”

Chris firmly shook his head. “I'm not nearly drunk enough for that.”

“You're not _any_ drunk yet,” Darren pointed out.

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” Darren stuck his tongue out and took custody of his drink again, licking the foam from his lip. “Good head.”

Chris almost spat out the first mouthful he'd taken of his own drink. “Excuse me?!”

Darren giggled. “The foam. The beer head.”

“Oh...” Chris blushed furiously, cursing himself for his reaction. “Of course. Right.” Slowly a smile spread across his face as the guy behind the bar flicked a switch and the jukebox kicked into life, drowning out the volume of whatever had been on the television until that point. “Hey, Darren?”

Darren looked up from his Guinness. “Yeah?”

“I think it's Name That Tune time.”

Darren grinned. During a lot of downtime on set, Chris had discovered that Darren knew pretty much every song in the history of … well, ever. So they'd developed their own version of Name That Tune, where Darren had until the chorus of a song kicked in to name it, and if he did it, Chris gave him a dollar. If he failed, Darren gave Chris a dollar. Chris was one hundred and seventy four dollars down at this point, and he had figured that maybe Darren wouldn't be so good on current British music, and this could be his chance to make some of his cash back.

“You're on, Colfer.” He drained the last of his drink and smiled over at Chris. “What are your terms? One pound per song?”

“That's like a dollar fifty!” Chris exclaimed.

“Yeah.”

“High stakes. I like your style.” Chris laughed and pulled out his wallet. “Fine. One pound per song it is.” He finished his own drink and stood up. “I'll get us some more drinks, and then you'd better flex your song muscles!”

As Chris returned with the drinks, a new track started on the jukebox, and before more than three notes had played, Darren burst out laughing. Chris frowned, and then slumped back down into the booth beside Darren. “That is NOT fair.”

Darren laughed and patted Chris on the leg. “I believe, Chris, that the song currently playing is Teenage Dream by Katy Perry.”

“Asshole,” Chris muttered, but he was laughing. He still had the change from the drinks in his hand, and fished out a pound coin and flicked it at Darren's head.

“Ow!” Darren laughed, catching the coin. “That's not fair. You can do that with a dollar bill but not with coins, that's _not_ fair.”

The next song to play was Born This Way, and Chris looked suspiciously in the direction of the jukebox. Had somebody noticed them and started choosing songs connected to Glee? But no, nobody had been near the machine, it was definitely just playing random tracks.

He sighed and handed over another coin.

They continued to alternate buying the drinks (Darren switching back to beer after his second pint of Guinness - “it's so nice, Chris, but it's like frigging _food_ , and it's making me full”, he had whined), and Darren continued to excel in naming the songs (“This isn't fair, they're all American songs!” Chris found himself exclaiming after almost every track) until finally a track played that Chris could tell Darren wasn't sure about. He was drumming his fingers on the table in frustration as he tried to hum along with the song.

“I've heard it before, I know I have,” he muttered to himself, and Chris laughed, walking his fingers along the table to the mound of coins Darren had collected, ready to steal one back.

“Not so fast,” Darren muttered, covering Chris's hand with his own while he closed his eyes and swayed to the music.

“You're drunk,” Chris giggled.

“So are you,” Darren muttered. “Now shh!”

Finally, with seconds to spare, Darren's eyes snapped open and he grinned widely at Chris. “It's called Love Love and it's by Take That!”

Chris's eyes widened. “Unbelievable! I mean – how! I mean-”

“It's on the soundtrack for the new X-Men movie,” Darren explained. “Or rather, it was on the credits everywhere but the US. There was a whole discussion about it on IMDb.”

Chris just continued to stare at Darren, before tapping him on the side of the head with the middle finger of his free hand. Neither of them had really noticed that Darren's hand was still covering Chris's on the table. “You have far too much useless knowledge in here.”

“It's not all useless,” Darren complained, absently running his thumb back and forth over the back of Chris's wrist. “Most of it gets used at some point!” Chris raised his eyebrows at the touch, though Darren just assumed Chris was contesting his statement. “Well... okay, some of it gets used. Occasionally.”

Chris laughed, though it was a little strained, and reluctantly dislodged his hand from underneath Darren's before things had chance to get too weird. “Here, then. You win, as always! I think I quit.” Sliding another pound coin across the table, he moved to stand up and swayed a little.

Darren immediately stood up too and placed his hand on the small of Chris's back. “You okay?”

Chris nodded and looked at Darren, swallowing and trying to ignore Darren's warm hand rubbing tiny circles on his back. “We already agreed that we're both drunk. I think a little wobble is to be expected, no?”

Darren laughed at that and Chris found himself unable to stop staring at Darren's lips. _Stop that_ , he told himself. _What's wrong with you? Darren laughs all the time. He's what you could call a laugher. Why can't you stop looking right now? Stop it! Stop looking!_

Chris suddenly realised that while he'd been berating himself in inner monologue format, Darren had stopped laughing. And stopped moving his hand, though it was still resting gently just above Chris's ass. He looked up at Darren's eyes, which were in turn looking down at his own lips, and pretty abruptly Chris's world had begun to spin again. Before his conscience had time to start talking again, he placed a hand on Darren's bicep and Darren's breath hitched in anticipation.

That was all the encouragement Chris needed. He moved his hand so that his arm hooked gently around Darren's neck, and moved closer until their lips were touching. He felt Darren's fingers spread out across his back and pull him in closer, and he closed his eyes and relaxed into Darren's arms as Darren kissed him.

After a moment Darren pulled away, and Chris gasped as he regained some of his senses. “Chris-” Darren started, as Chris's hand flew to his mouth in something resembling embarrassment.

“I need some air,” Chris mumbled, as he sidled out of the booth. He managed to stop himself from running until he was out of Darren's line of sight, and Darren sunk back down into his seat, his brow furrowed. He tangled his fingers in his hair, leaning on one elbow against the wall of the booth.

“I wasn't going to complain...” he muttered.

Chris got outside and leant back against the wall of the pub, his eyes closed. When his eyes were open, everything was spinning – and that was obviously due in part to the fact he just _ran_ after six rum and cokes, but also quite a lot down to the fact that _he just kissed Darren_.

One of the girls who'd been playing pool earlier was standing outside when he flew out of the door, and had been looking over at him as he leant pathetically (he felt pathetic, at least) against the wall.

She called over to him. “Hey, you okay?”

He bit his lip, hoping she was just being polite and hadn't recognised him. He glanced over at her and nodded, forcing a smile. “Fine, thanks. Just a bit warm in there.”

She held out a box of cigarettes to him, and he realised that was why she was standing there. “Want one? You look like you could use it.”

He shook his head as his phone vibrated against his thigh. “No, thanks.” He fished the phone from his pocket and she politely turned her attention back to lighting her own cigarette.

One new message. He swallowed a little and pressed to open it.

_**From: Darren**  
Come back inside._

Chris ignored it. He felt bad about it, but, yeah. Ignore. A few minutes later it buzzed again.

_**From: Darren**  
Please? :( _

Trust Darren to use a sadface while Chris was having an emotional meltdown. He pressed reply this time, but could still only stare at the blank message with no fucking clue what to say.

A few minutes after that, it started to ring. Darren's stupid face flashed up on the screen, in those stupid pink glasses, and Chris could only stop to wonder when the hell Darren had stolen his phone and changed his own caller photo. Probably sometime earlier while he was busy breaking and entering into Chris's hotel room.

“Hey,” Chris breathed, deciding it was better to take the plunge and answer than just try to ignore Darren forever. It's not like that could last long anyway.

“Look, you're going to have to come inside,” Darren whined. “I've bought more drinks and it's reeeally not a good idea for me to have rum after all the beer that's inside me right now. It would lead to messy bad messyness. And potentially vomit.”

Chris couldn't help but laugh. “ _Why_ did you buy more drinks?”

“The guy at the bar said it was last orders. I panicked.”

_Last orders?!_ “What time is it?”

“Why do you keep asking me that? Don't you have a watch? Or, you know, a phone with a clock on it?”

“I'm talking to you on my phone, idiot.”

“Oh.” Darren paused. “I think it's almost eleven.”

“How the hell are we still awake?”

“I think it's because-”

“If you say it's because of the nap thing, I swear, will elbow you in the crotch.”

Darren laughed quietly. “From all the way out there?”

“Fine,” Chris sighed, tensing up again. Talking like this was easy when he couldn't _see_ Darren. “I'm coming back inside.”

“Good,” Darren muttered, his voice dropping lower. “Hurry up, so that I can kiss you again.”

Darren hung up and hoped to goodness Chris would still come back inside after that. He propped his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes and starting to count.

_1, 2, 3..._

He would give Chris until thirty before he went out to find him.

_18, 19, 20..._

Thirty was a good number, right?

_29, 30, 31..._

Maybe longer than thirty. Maybe sixty. Or a hundred. Thirty seconds was hardly any time at all. What if people were leaving and Chris held the door open for them? That would add at least another ten seconds.

_55, 56, 5-_

“Darren, why are you counting?”

Darren opened one eye to see Chris leaning against the edge of the booth, looking shy and confused. Darren frowned.

“Did I do that out loud?”

Chris nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh.”

Darren pushed the glass of rum and Diet Coke towards Chris, smiling hopefully. Chris finally sat down, and Darren let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He shuffled closer to Chris, as close as he dared without risking Chris running away again, until their legs were touching under the table. His eyes flicked down to Chris's lips and back up to meet his eyes, looking for a sign of something – encouragement, or the other thing.

He got neither, and was about to slide away from Chris and go back to his beer, deflated, when Chris spoke.

“Darren –“ he breathed, not knowing what words to use next. He cycled through the options in his head, disregarding most of them thanks to them all being utterly lame. “What's happening here?”

Darren shrugged, twisting the pint glass between his palms. “I like you, that's all.”

“But-”

“No – no buts.” Darren sighed, turning to look at Chris properly again. “I just like you. I'm not having some kind of crisis, this isn't my big 'gay experiment'-” Darren used air quotes here, gesticulating wildly all of a sudden. “I mean, it _is_ an experiment, but-”

It was a good job Darren's hand was close to Chris's arm, as he needed to reach out to grab Chris's wrist as the latter moved to leave again at that last comment.

“Nonono – listen to me.” Darren was staring intently at Chris now. “It's an experiment in the same way as every girl I've ever dated has been an experiment. Like, it's all about chemistry, right? And chemistry is all experiments. There's something in me and something in you that I kind of wanna _experiment_ with to see what we make. That's what happens. Sometimes you experiment and there's no reaction, nothing happens, but that doesn't mean it wasn't worth trying. And sometimes it's, like, boom. Like that stuff you put in water and it catches fire. Big sparks. But you wouldn't know unless you tried, right? And sometimes you do an experiment and it doesn't do what you expect and it turns out that you forgot to put one of the elements in it and all you've made is brown sludge and you get an F.”

“Uh, Darren?” Chris laughed quietly. “Is that meant to be part of the analogy or are you just still _really_ pissed at flunking Chem class?”

Darren flushed. “Sorry. Yeah.” His brain caught up with his eyes at this point, and he realised that Chris was smiling now. Beaming back at him, he continued. “But like, I want to know if we could be that thing that explodes all over everything just by sharing the same air.”

Chris had chosen that moment to take a drink, and found himself having to try very hard not to spit it out across the table. “Would you like to rephrase ' _explodes all over everything_ ' at all?”

“I... oh. Yeah. Maybe.” Darren looked slightly sheepish, but didn't actually rephrase anything.

“And do you have a hypothesis to present? Will you be providing some kind of control experiment?”

“How the hell would I go about doing that?”

Chris laughed and shrugged as he lowered his voice and moved his face closer to Darren's. “Okay, maybe we'll cancel the control experiment. But I expect a full report on my desk by the end of the tour.”

Darren smiled, and leaned in closer to Chris again, muttering against the corner of Chris's mouth. “So does that mean I have permission to continue my research?”

Chris closed the gap between their mouths in reply, parting Darren's lips with his tongue. Darren's hands settled on Chris's hips as if they belonged there, and Chris moaned a little as the kiss deepened.

_Yeah,_ was all Darren could think. _Good experiment._

“I think we should maybe go,” Darren breathed eventually, only breaking the kiss for long enough to get the sentence out.

“Why?” Chris whined, running his hand through Darren's hair and trying to pull him closer again.

“Well,” Darren started, pulling back with a smile. “The bar guy is staring at us and it's been like forty minutes since he called last orders. I think he wants to close. And also if we don't go to sleep soon, this whole nap thing will have been totally wast- OW! What was that for?!”

Chris shrugged with a smile as he stood up. “Don't say I didn't warn you. Elbowing you in the side is way nicer than what I actually said I would do.”

Darren laughed and slid out of the booth behind Chris. “And don't _you_ forget I still have a key for your room.”

“That sounds more like a promise than a threat.”


End file.
